


(in the city) when two worlds collide

by detailsofyourincompetence



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Minor Mulan/Red Riding Hood | Ruby, tw: mention of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-03 06:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detailsofyourincompetence/pseuds/detailsofyourincompetence
Summary: It's been five years and eleven days since Emma left Storybrooke to return to New York, and some days she is more lonely than others, and some days she misses Regina and Henry more than others, but then her father calls and asks her to come back because all over town, unborn babies go missing. Her family needs her, so Emma convinces herself to return to Storybrooke. For a week, tops. (Canon divergent fic post s3, where, instead of falling through Zelena's portal, Emma returns to New York. Until it’s time to fight a new villain.)---------------------------------There aren’t many things she isn’t willing to do for Regina. Maybe it’s time for a compromise, she debates, and just because she does what it takes to help her parents, doesn’t mean that, in the end, she has to give up her apartment in New York altogether.So in the end, she caves and packs a small overnight bag, nothing more than absolutely necessary. No way is she staying for longer than a week.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swantomyqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swantomyqueen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [(in the city) when two worlds collide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818451) by [swantomyqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swantomyqueen/pseuds/swantomyqueen). 



> First of all, thank you to swantomyqueen for choosing my fic. I can't tell you just how much I love the art she created for it. Now, go take a look at it and shower her in kudos and love!
> 
> Thank you to L for betaing, for putting up with my constant changing things. All the mistakes I managed to work in during final editing are mine to keep. :)
> 
> And a HUGE thank you to sqsn's mods- you've done (and are doing) an amazing job, thank you for every single writing sprint, for all those emails keep everyone on track- and for making everyone feel welcome. It's been once again a wonderful event to see Swen come together!

It's been three months and thirteen days since she left Storybrooke, and not for the first time, Emma thinks about selling her apartment. Her ridiculously spacious apartment in uptown New York that is too big for her anyway without Henry there to fill the silence, and too many memories for it to feel like home.

 

Selling it could offer her enough money to put an end to the returning nightmares about spending cold December nights in the Bug, fingers and toes in ice cold pain even after she wakes up.

 

So she thinks about selling and moving, but even if there is a lot about property law she doesn't know, she does know that selling an apartment in New York City without proper paperwork would pose major problem. So she stays, redecorating as much as possible to make it feel like a whole different place, with Florence and the Machine blasting from the speakers.

 

(She doesn't succeed.)

 

\---

 

It's been six months und four days, and when Emma awakes, it's to one of those cold crisp morning in late October. She pulls the blanket tight around her body and rolls out of bed.

 

There's coffee waiting for her under the coffee machine, and she slowly scrolls through her phone's messages while cradling a steaming cup to her chest. She has a missed call from her mother, and a text only a few minutes later: ' _Why don't you come home for the week, honey? There's still time; we could have a party at Granny's.'_

 

Emma sighs and texts back, ' _Sorry, cant. important case.'_

 

She doesn't have a case, important or not, but even thinking about returning to Storybrooke makes her feel like drowning, so she buys herself a bottle of whiskey and a cupcake with a star shaped candle and tries not to think about the last birthday she's spent alone.

 

She answers none of the birthday texts she gets that year.

 

\---

 

It's been one year, one month and twenty-two days since Emma left Storybrooke, and days like these always make her feel the loneliest.

 

She doesn't regret leaving Storybrooke (and a constant string of new curses and a bizarre family tree) behind and going back to New York, not for a single second (okay, maybe when it's her birthday and she lights another candle and gets drunk at seven pm on a weeknight, but those moments in between dusk and dawn don't count) – but today is Thursday, and on her way home from work Emma passes Henry's old school. There are more cars parked in front than usual, big gleaning _family_ cars, and with a jolt, Emma realizes that it's probably the last parent-teacher conference of the term.

 

Right when she is in front of the black gate, the mother of one of Henry's classmates gets out of her car. Emma doesn't remember her name (Marlene? Or Stacy? Abbey?), or her son's name – it was one year built on fake memories, how is she supposed to remember names or places when in the end, her whole world came tumbling down when she took a sip of a potion a stranger handed her? – and she thinks about just pretending she hasn't seen the other woman, but Marlene, or Stacy, or Abbey is already meeting her eyes with a look of recognition on her face.

 

Recognition changes to astonishment, and she probably wonders about Henry's absence, and how he could change school without leaving a trace. Hastily, Emma throws a non-committal "Hey, how are you?" her way and falls into an almost-sprint until she is halfway home.

 

She should have taken the long way home, the one where she doesn't pass Henry's old school, or his playground, or their favorite restaurant for a late Sunday morning breakfast.

 

On days like these the city is full of memories, and the most painful are those that might not be real.

 

\---

 

It's been two years, three months and twenty-nine days, and it's the first time she gets a text from Storybrooke from someone other than her parents.

 

It's not a text, technically, but a picture from Regina, of her and Henry on a boat right in front of the Niagara Falls. They look ridiculous in their plastic raincoats- Henry red-nosed and red-cheeked, and Regina's wet hair flat against her forehead and curling at the tips where her hood slipped off-, but Henry's smile is almost splitting his face in half, and Regina is visibly _glowing_ , and Emma reasons it's the first time mother and son left Storybrooke together.

 

She keeps that picture as her phone background for a long time.

 

\---

 

It's been two years, four months and eleven days, just past midnight, and Emma is chasing down a fugitive in Staten Island when the street sign catches her attention. Slightly out of breath, she takes a picture of herself in front of it, cheeks flushed, grinning wildly, and sends it to Regina before chasing after her target.

 

Three hours later, after an eventually successful job, Emma checks her phone. Regina's reply makes her laugh, exhilarated, _'Miss Swan, are you drunk texting me?'_

 

Emma types, _'Check the name of the street, stupid!'_ , laughs again and changes stupid to Regina.

 

That's how she starts texting her son's other mother in a completely casual way.

 

—-

 

It's been two years, five months, und eleven days, and Emma wakes up from one of those dreams that kept returning during her first few months back in New York. It's always the same - Regina, Henry, and her parents standing at the town line, her parents openly crying, Henry's face an unreadable mask, but it's Regina's eyes that always takes her breath away, brown eyes filled with anger, and despair, and Regina trying to hide her feeling behind a mask of compassion.

 

(It's almost funny, because when Emma left Storybrooke, she didn't even have the guts to say goodbye to Regina. She sent a text instead, and told Henry to look out for his mother (how cliché!), got into her car and drove off, looking back every five seconds.)

 

The dream has her waking up in the middle of the night, with a sense of such acute longing that she can feel her heart clench painfully in her chest, and she almost grabs her phone to type _'I miss you,'_ but they don't have that kind of… friendship, where they miss each other or text anything other than brief status updates or semi-insulting messages beneath silly pictures. Regina probably wouldn't call what they have, friendship.

 

So, burying herself deeper into the pillows, Emma closes her eyes again, and tries not to think about Storybrooke.

 

—-

 

It's been three years, nine months and fifteen days, and for some reason, Emma feels lonelier on Regina's birthday than on her own.

 

She has never been one for grand birthday declarations (she has a cupcake and cheap alcohol on her own, and usually sends Henry the most obscure gift from his amazon wishlist), but this day feels different. Maybe because it's Regina, and Regina (and Emma's feelings for her) has always been a different topic, and certainly complicated.

 

Last year, she sent Regina an obnoxiously pink birthday card dipped in too much glitter. On the back, she had only written _'the years between 29 and 30 are the best 40 years in a woman's life'_ , feeling weird about it for almost a week, until Regina threatened to set her leather jacket on fire.

 

This year, she tries to avoid all weirdness and sends a quick _'Happy birthday, wishing u a great day! E.'_ from her phone before heading into the bathroom.

 

Not even five minutes later, Regina texts back, _'Henry insists I have breakfast in bed, and your parents aren't coming over for dinner, so I'd say it's going great so far.'_ When Emma scrolls down to the picture attached, she is faced with Regina lying in her bed, looking incredibly smug. Slightly breathless, Emma takes in her make-up free face and slightly tousled hair, and she is reminded of that time in Neverland, when Regina was looking almost the same, a bit wild and reckless, and equally smug when she'd whispered in Emma's ear, "told you I could make you relax enough to sleep."

 

Her skin feels suddenly too tight and too hot, and Emma mutters to herself, "are you trying to kill me, woman?", before heading for a cold shower.

 

(She feels hot all over again when she looks at the picture again and notices Regina's bare shoulders, only one strap of her black nightgown visible.)

 

\---

 

It's been four years, eleven months and twenty-three days, and Emma can't believe that she is still texting Regina when they haven't spoken in almost five years. It's still mostly casual, Emma tells herself, and superficial pleasantries that neither of them is good at, but Emma almost looks forward to what are mostly irregular updates on small town politics and Henry's performance at school. ' _If your imbecile of a mother suggests one more bird sanctuary, I'll have Zelena set fire to all the birdhouses her students have built in 34 years, I swear to god.',_ or ' _Henry failed chemistry. He clearly got the scientific part of his brain from you.'_ Because with Regina, every interaction is laced with at least a small insult, and that's something Emma likes about her. It's all out in the open, and Emma doesn't feel obligated to stay in contact, but free to run.

 

(She doesn't think she has any place left to run to, though.)

 

While she exchanges semi-regular messages with Regina (her favorite so far is ' _Henry suggested us to get snapchat. I told him I am a bit more refined than using crown filters,'_ followed by a picture of Regina wearing a startlingly real-looking crown, and Emma laughs so hard she almost forgets the disappointment each time Henry doesn't answer her texts.), she manages to dodge most of her parents' calls.

 

Three alone today, and her phone rings again just as she is balancing two frozen pizzas, a bag of chips and a lone apple on one arm while reaching for a bag of Hershey kisses with her free hand. She lets the call go to voicemail, and, just to be safe, turns her phone to silent while she is waiting at the checkout line.

 

She loves her parents, really, she does, but sometimes talking to them feels like ripping open old wounds that have hardly healed over. They try to keep in contact with her, even after four years of Emma sending cards for every birthday and Christmas, and maybe she should be grateful for that. Maybe she should be grateful for parents that don't seem to give up on her, when really all she feels is bitter when they call her with Neal babbling in the background, Mary Margaret gushing about how wonderful it is to finally see her own child grow up. David is a bit more considerate, and still is he every bit the proud father, telling her about his son's first steps, first words, first picture Neal drew him for Father's Day.

 

But at least they try, and they keep trying no matter how distanced Emma keeps herself.

 

That's why Emma, an hour later, puts the groceries away and sits down at the kitchen table to call them back.

 

"Emma, hi!” Her father's warm voice greets her, and she can picture the easy smile on his face. "Wait, I'll just put you on speaker, your mother and I wanted to talk to you.”

 

I figured as much with half a dozen missed calls, Emma thinks, and then, they're trying, they're trying, they're trying.

 

"Emma, sweetheart!” Her mother sounds equally jubilant, and Emma can hear her clothes rustling as she hurries closer the phone.

 

"How are you, kiddo, how is life in the big city?” her father asks, and just as her mother blurts out, on one long breath, "I'm pregnant, Emma, we're having a daughter!”

 

Pregnant, Emma thinks.

 

Pregnant.

 

Pregnant, and daughter, daughter, daughter.

 

There's a long moment of deafening silence, where Emma is highly aware of her own breathing, and how can she feel like she is suffocating at the same time?

 

Her mother laughs, exhilarated, "Isn't this great news?”

 

Her father sighs, "Well, that's why we wanted to talk to you,” and after another break he asks, "Are you alright, kiddo?”

 

Emma snaps herself out of her thoughts. "Yes!, Yes, I am, guys, I am so happy for you,” and locking all her feelings of abandonment and being replaced away, somewhere inside her chest where she doesn't have to examine them anymore, she listens to Mary Margaret rambling on about how they tried, and they want this child so much, and even though it's too early to tell, she just knows it's going to be a girl, because, "A mother just knows, right, Emma?”

 

"I guess,” Emma agrees, trying to sound excited at the prospect of having a sister. "Listen, guys, I would really love to talk some more, but I really have to go. There's this important… thing… I have to attend.” And she hangs up to her parents promising to call her in a few days.

 

Her so-called important thing consists of Emma draping herself over the couch, glass of scotch in one hand, the other pressed against her eyes, debating if 3pm is too early to get dead-ass drunk.

 

It isn't, she decides a minute later.

 

She is on her third glass when her phone beeps with a message from Regina.

 

_'I'm not going to child-proof the whole town just because your mother still behaves like a spoiled little princess. I managed to raise Henry just fine, and I didn't even have outlet plugs.'_

 

Emma feels herself almost smiling at that, or at least the permanent frown on her forehead relaxes a bit. A moment later her phone beeps again.

 

_'I think congratulations are in order, but I don't know if I can rejoice at another spawn of Snow White.'_

 

At that, Emma laughs out loud, letting the phone drop to the cushions. And before closing her eyes to succumb to alcohol induced slumber, she wonders how Regina manages to find the right words even though they haven't spoken in almost five years, and suddenly she is filled with such undefined longing, with wanting something she can't quite grasp.

 

\---

 

It's been five years, one month and eleven days, and Emma has mostly gotten over the shock of the news. She keeps up her routine of work, sleep and hiding inside her apartment, and slowly the bitterness starts to fade.

 

Her parents call her less frequently now, busy with a four-year-old and another child on the way, Emma thinks. She feels mostly relieved, because she isn't eight years old anymore, needing constant validation and control. And yet, at the same time, there is still this eight-year-old girl inside of her that has never had parents who cared enough to ask about her day, and she finds this feeling of abandonment as well and locks it up with the others.

 

Emma knows that her parents are trying, to give her space without losing touch, and she thinks it's not too much to ask of her to make an effort, and so she at least tries to answer every other of her parents' phone calls.

 

One day, she'll get used to having parents that are her age, pregnant with a girl that's going to be the child they had lost with her, and one day, it's not going to feel like being replaced in a cave in Neverland, or like returning to Storybrooke to a nine months pregnant mother, or like her heart being ripped out.

 

Today turns out to be not that day, though.

 

"Dad, really, I can't!” They've been on the phone for twenty minutes now, and it's the second time her father asks her to come back to Storybrooke, and again, Emma refuses, because, even if she is trying to be a better daughter, a better person, there are just some things that she isn't willing to sacrifice.

 

"Emma,” David says, voice urgent, "Our unborn baby is missing! Your mother needs you. We need you,” he adds, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "Listen, kid, this is not just about your baby sister or brother, but I've talked to Whale and Regina, and we all agree that it has to be another curse, and it means Storybrooke is in danger. I understand that you don't want- I get that you can't come back to live here again, but maybe you could at least think about it. Just know that you might be what it takes to save the town.”

 

Emma swallows around the lump that forms at the weight of unwanted responsibility. Her usually spacious apartment feels suddenly crushing, the air stifling, and she squeezes her eyes shut when she says, "Dad, I am really sorry, but I'm not coming back to Storybrooke. Just, please, try to understand me.” She hangs up without waiting for her father's reply.

 

This wasn't how she wanted it to go, her parents still hopelessly in love and looking forward to being parents again, until one day, they lose their child, and instead of dealing with their feelings, they convince themselves and their friends that there's a new villain threatening the whole town.

 

This wasn't how she had pictured herself being a better daughter.

 

She picks up her phone an hour later, when she's finished doing her laundry and dusting every horizontal surface in her apartment. There is a new message waiting, this time from Regina. Emma tries to keep down the fuzzy feeling in her stomach as she opens it.

 

 _'Pull yourself together, Miss Swan,'_ it says. _'I'd rather you stay in uptown New York as well, but this is your opportunity to be Storybrooke's savior in shining armor again. The whole town thinks this a new curse, and I'm starting to agree. It's time for you to come back. Your family needs you.'_

 

Emma breathes, puts the phone down on the counter. She tries to not let those words get to herself, but this is Regina, and there aren't many things she isn't willing to do for Regina. Maybe it's time for a compromise, she debates, and just because she does what it takes to help her parents, doesn't mean that in the end, she has to give up her apartment in New York altogether.

 

So eventually, she caves and packs a small overnight bag, nothing more than absolutely necessary. No way is she staying for longer than a week.

 

Before she starts her Bug for the drive to Storybrooke, she texts back a curt ' _Okay. Don't call me Miss Swan, though.'_ She can almost picture Regina smirking at that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Emma stands in front of the door of the loft a few hours later,  at least five minutes pass before she is able to knock. She keeps wringing her hands, taking a breath, lifting her right hand to knock- only to let it drop after seconds of hesitating. Breathe, lift, drop, repeat. She feels eleven years old again, standing on stepmother Janine’s porch, a broken vase in front of her, waiting for the door to open, for forgiveness that is never coming.

 

At least this time, it’s not freezing outside.

 

Five minutes, breathe, lift, drop, repeat, until Emma takes one last deep breath and raps the knuckles of her right hand against the door.

 

Five minutes of being swallowed by her insecurities, but David needs only ten seconds until he pulls the door open. He greets her with a warm smile that only slightly wavers, and Emma tries to return it (and fails, she thinks). Instead, she lifts her hand, waves sheepishly. "Hi."

 

David’s smile grows a bit, and without hesitating, he takes a step forwards to wrap her in a bear hug. "Emma! God, it’s been too long!" He squeezes her a little tighter before letting go of her stiff form. "Regina told us you’re coming. Thank you, kid."

 

Emma wants to say she is sorry, wants to say she should have called, but finds that she can’t. Instead she replies, "I’m really not over the fact that you roped in Regina of all people to get me back into town."

 

David grins and motions for her to follow him inside. Emma is a bit surprised to see how little the apartment has changed, aside from a few toys in one corner and a coloring book and bright crayons strewn across the kitchen table.

 

"Your mother is upstairs," David explains and turns to the kitchen to make tea for the two of them without even asking. Some of Mary Margaret’s habits have rubbed off on him, Emma guesses before taking a seat at the kitchen island. She watches her father put the kettle on the stove, spoon tea into a waiting pot. His back is turned towards her, and Emma can see the stress of the last weeks in his tense shoulders.

 

"How bad is it?" she asks after a while when he is facing her again to place two empty cups in front of her.

 

This time, his smile wavers, wanes, then vanishes altogether. He rubs a hand over his face, the sound rough with his stubble. "Well, you know your mother," he says and moves to the chair next to her, "she is a fighter, but it’s killing her that we don’t know yet _how_   to fight this. She is... She hasn’t left the bed for three days now, and she won’t talk to me or anyone else. I’ve even threatened to call Whale, and she threw me out of our bedroom." He screws his eyes shut, and Emma patiently waits for him to continue. "I get it, I really do, Emma," he sighs. "We both wanted this child so much, and she was fourteen weeks pregnant, and now the baby is… just gone. It’s too painful to even think about what happened to her, or him, and I get it. But we have to fight whoever did this, and now is not the time to give up and hide in bed."

 

Emma swallows down her bitterness, because, once, she was another child who was given up without a fight, but now is not the time to wallow in self-pity. "She'll get there, dad, Mary Margaret is strong," she says, placing her hand on top of his, giving it a little squeeze.

 

He smiles at her, pained and almost teary-eyed. "It’s good you’re back. It will cheer your mother up, and the town could use a flash of hope, too."

 

Emma cringes at that and slowly withdraws her hand, because she has had five years of not being the savior, of the only responsibility being herself, and it is funny how easy it is to be thrown back into old roles and expectations. "About that, dad," she tries not notice how his face brightens at that word, "are you sure it’s another curse? I mean, things like this happen," even to her own ears, _things like this_ sounds too small for something _like this_ , too trivial, because she remembers carrying Henry under her heart, and despite having given him up, she can’t even begin to fathom the pain of losing him before he was even born. "Snow is older now," she continues against the bitter taste in her mouth, "and even in a world like this, with excellent medical care, there’s still a risk of miscarriage…" Her voice trails off at the raw pain and helplessness in David’s eyes.

 

"It wasn’t the first time," he says, and Emma’s heart breaks and breaks and breaks, until David clarifies, "not for us, thank god, but in this town."

 

"I think I really should make us that tea before we start telling you about that," a voice suddenly interrupts them.

 

Emma turns around, and there, at the bottom of the stairs, stands her mother, a knit blanket curled around her shoulders and a sad smile on her face. "Emma…" Her smile breaks, like it is too painful to even keep up this facade, and before tears can form in the corner of her eyes, Emma hurries up and tentatively hugs her mother. She's torn between _mom_   and _Mary Margaret_ , and it’s her father joining their hug that helps her out of her misery.

 

"Mom," she says, trying not to sound helpless. Crying in her parents’ arms has never made her feel safe, and so she pulls out of the hug before anything like that can happen. "I’m so sorry."

 

Her mother nods, "It’s going to be okay, sweetheart," and moves over to the counter to turn on the kettle. "Everything is going to be okay. I’m just happy you’re back." Her smile still doesn’t look completely sincere.

 

Emma exchanges a brief worried look with her father, and together they watch her mother continue to prepare tea and cookies for the three of them. Emma tries not to dwell on how her arrival is enough for her mother to get out of bed, because even for someone her age, it's too much to carry the responsibility for her mother’s well-being on her shoulders.

 

"Why don’t we sit down for a while?" Mary Margaret suggest finally as she pours tea into their mugs. "We can tell you everything that’s happened in the last week, since we didn’t really talk to you, you know? I guess David has already told you about…" Mary Margaret's voice trails off as she grasps her husband’s hand for support.

 

Taking a sip from her tea, Emma quickly nods her head. "The baby, yes. Mom- I am so, so sorry."

 

"I know, sweetheart. Thank you," Mary Margaret half-smiles, teary-eyed, before her expression turns grave again. "Did he also tell you that our baby wasn’t the only child that disappeared?"

 

"I was just telling her about it," David says. "Before our little munchkin, Aurora’s unborn baby simply… vanished. And afterwards, another one. I haven’t talked to Whale yet, so we don’t know all the details, but apparently he insists that these aren’t miscarriages…"

 

At that, Mary Margaret visibly grits her teeth. "David," she says, placing a hand on top of her husband’s, "I didn’t have a miscarriage. Our child was kidnapped, and we’re going to get her back."

 

"I know that, honey." Mary Margaret’s expression becomes confident, and David turns his hand around to give Mary Margaret’s a brief squeeze. "Or him," he adds as an afterthought.

 

Mary Margaret looks at him lovingly, and her smile turns both sincere and soft. "I told you before, we’re having a girl. Trust me."

 

They share one of these sickeningly loving looks that only a few couples manage after over thirty years of being married, and Emma feels terribly embarrassed and incomprehensibly left out. She discreetly clears her throat. "Well, I think that means I have to talk to Whale. Find out what he knows, you know." Before she can start to ramble, Emma pushes back her chair and swiftly gets up. "I’ll talk to you later, guys."

 

Her parents both look up, and her mother murmurs softly, "Oh honey, of course we will," just as her father asks, "Where are you staying tonight, kid?"

 

Emma looks in the general direction of her former bedroom, and she says, "At Granny’s, I guess. I'm pretty sure she has a room available."

 

David gets up from his chair. "You’re free to stay here if you want to, you know that, right?"

 

Taking a deep breath, Emma thinks about her five-year-old brother coloring with his bright crayons and sharing his excitement over his little sister with parents Emma never had, and she suppresses a shudder. "I think it would be a bit too crowded." She offers a reassuring smile. "We’ll talk when I know more."

 

Without looking back, she flees from the suddenly oppressive air of the apartment.

 

\---

 

"I might have gotten my degree from a curse, but I’ve done my research on this," Dr. Whale says as he settles into the chair in his office.

 

From her spot in front of his desk, Emma takes a look around his office. It’s a strange mix between medical paraphernalia and fairytale hotchpotch, modern academic textbooks and medical equipment next to old-fashioned gadgets Emma can’t even tell the use of. She stares at a pair of giant forceps, grimaces, and turns back towards Whale. "Are you sure that it’s not just… an unusual amount of miscarriages?"

 

"I thought so as well at first, but something about these cases seemed off. Let me show you something." He turns the monitor of his computer around so that Emma has a clear view and opens a program that seems way too fancy for a small-town hospital. "I had this custom made by Ava Zimmer," he explains at her skeptical look, "turns out little Gretel has quite the knack for coding. Anyway, look at this." He calls up a high-definition black-and-white video showing a slightly off-center peach-sized circle. "This is Ashley Boyd’s second trimester scan. She and her husband were tearing up when I could confirm that little Alexandra would soon have a little brother," he explains, pointing at the peach before fast-forwarding almost a minute. He presses play again and leans back in his office chair. "Now look."

 

The peach moves almost imperceptibly, and Emma can make out arms and legs, until, about ten seconds later, there’s a glitch in the video, the screen goes blank, and just when Emma starts to ask, "What the…?", the screen comes back to life with a bright light.

 

When the video is back in focus, the peach is gone.

 

\---

 

"So, Whale told me, basically, that he has scientific proof of at least one… fetus being abducted right in front of his eyes," Emma explains. She and Ruby are sitting in a corner in Granny’s diner. Emma had been right, there is a room available, so while Emma is enjoying her late lunch, Ruby takes advantage of the afternoon calm to catch up with her. "He has the video of the ultrasound, and once he started to have his doubts, he checked up on the other patients. He had some blood samples left, and turns out that immediately after the children vanished, the mothers’ hormonal levels returned to normal. And there was something else, something about endometrium returning to early proliferative thickness without bleeding, though I am not sure what that means."

 

Ruby hums, running a hand over her stomach absentmindedly. "It means that thickness of the mucosal membrane of your uterus changes, depending on hormonal levels, and after a miscarriage, it should be thicker than just a millimeter."

 

Sharply, Emma looks up, her eyebrows drawn in confusion. "What, are you at med school or what?" She takes a large bite from her cheese sandwich and swallows while waiting for Ruby to answer.

 

The redhead only smiles, eyes a bit unfocused. Then she shakes her head. "No, I’ve just… been reading. You know how boring small-town life can get."

 

Emma snorts. "Yeah, but certainly not in Storybrooke." She stares curiously at Ruby, even placing her fork on the table to completely focus on her, until Ruby tries to avoid her eyes. "Spill it, woman."

 

"Well, everything I know about pregnancy is either outdated or from another world, so I thought I had to bring myself up-to-date, you know, with all that is changing for me and…" This time, she pats her stomach, making sure that Emma catches the motion.

 

It takes a moment for everything to fall into place for Emma, and when it does, Emma gapes before squealing, "Wait- do you mean you are pregnant?" When Ruby nods, Emma abandons her lunch altogether and hurries around the table to carefully wrap her arms around the other woman. "How far along are you? Who is the father? Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before?"

 

Ruby makes a face at the string of questions. "Almost eighteen weeks. No father, though I sometimes do call her daddy. And," she smirks, "if I’m not completely mistaken, it was you who rushed out of town so you didn’t have to face your feelings for..."

 

"Nope, this is not about me. I could have called, yes, but so you could have. And what’s the difference between a father and daddy?"

 

At that Ruby smirks. "For you, it’s the difference between Charming and Regina in a pantsuit."

 

Frowning, Emma returns to her side of the table. "I’m not sure if I get what you mean- are you saying that you and Regina are dating?"

 

"Oh, hell no, I would never risk your wraith just like that!" Ruby exclaims and laughs, a deep belly laugh. When Emma doesn't join in, Ruby cocks her head. "Wait. You really don’t know, do you? Are you telling me that your mother for once didn’t spill the beans?" At Emma’s puzzled look, she adds, "About Mulan and me? About…" She waves her hand between herself and the general direction of the door.

 

"About Mulan and… Mulan and you? You're dating?" Emma wants to say it's the best news she's heard in a year, but part of that might be relief at Regina and Ruby not dating, so she smiles and says, "I'm so happy for you, Ruby. So, when did this all happen?"

 

Ruby starts a long explanation about Mulan returning to Storybrooke, and how they bonded over both feeling like outsiders in a small town, and suddenly Emma blurts out, "Wait again- are you now telling me that you and Mulan, that you're having a baby _together_? But how would that work?"

 

Ruby laughs again, head thrown back. "Maybe you should ask Regina that," she replies before standing up to return to work.

 

\---

 

She joins Ruby for her run the next morning.

 

"So," Ruby says lightly while Emma is trying to keep up with her, slightly out of breath, "I take it you still haven’t talked to her?"

 

Emma keeps her eyes straight ahead and decides to feign ignorance. "To who?"

 

Ruby rolls her eyes. "Don’t play stupid, Emma." And Emma regrets one night before the first curse broke, when she and Ruby shared too many beers and too many secrets, and she might have mentioned her 'crush on the mayor‘. They cross the main road, still empty at six-thirty in the morning, and Emma allows herself to hope Ruby might drop the topic.

 

They have barely reached the other side of the street, though, when the other woman casts a knowing look her way. "I’m talking about Regina, of course. Does she at least know you’re back in town?"

 

Emma stays silent, biting her tongue, until Ruby stops dead in her track, holding Emma back with a hand around her forearm. "Emma! Are you serious?!"

 

Futilely, Emma tries not to blush while getting her heavy breathing back under control. How the hell is Ruby, twelve weeks pregnant, in a better shape than she is, when all she does is chase criminals and eat pizza and play video games on weekends? "Listen," she begins, shifting from one foot to the other, and she can feel sweat pooling at the small of her neck, "it’s complicated, okay? I sent her a message before driving back, so she does at least know I'm back. It's just, things between us are… complicated," she says again, with a helpless shrug of one shoulder.

 

Shaking her head in disbelief, Ruby stares at her.

 

And stares.

 

And stares.

 

Until Emma finally caves in. "Fine, I’ll talk to her," Emma agrees with an exasperated sigh, pulling her arm free from the other woman. „ _After_ I’ve talked to Gold. Now, can we please, please, please, just get this horrible running thing over with?"

 

\---

 

After a hot and long shower back at the inn, Emma has a quick breakfast downstairs at the diner - hidden away in the corner, but always one eye on the door, for she still remembers the last time she showed up in Storybrooke unannounced, remembers porcelain breaking, remembers _Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you_ , and infinite pain on Regina’s face. Not something she wants a repeat performance of without being drunk off her face -, and afterwards walks over to the pawnshop.

 

The bell above the door jingles lightly when Emma opens the door, and a cold shiver runs down her back when she realizes just how little changes in small town Maine, even in as much as five years. The person behind the counter is still the same, too, and Gold's eyes gleam excitedly when he takes in her appearance. "Sheriff Swan! What a lovely surprise!" he says, rubbing his hands. "I’ve heard you’d be back in town. What can I do for you?"

 

Forcing a smile, Emma replies, "I’m not sheriff anymore, as you know for sure."

 

Gold cocks his head, a smile playing around his thin lips. "Ah, yes, yes, yes , of course, _Miss_  Swan. What can I do for you anyway?" he asks again, eyes still gleaming.

 

Emma sighs, stepping closer to the counter to place her hands on top. "I’m sure you’ve heard about the latest row of… kidnapping in town?"

 

Gold looks at her with a fake blank look on his face, furrowing his brows before finally smiling brightly. "Ah, are you talking about the reported cases of unborn babies gone missing, Miss Swan?"

 

"Call it what you will, but yes, I’m talking about those. What do you know about it?"

 

He puts a sad smile on his face. "I’m really sorry, Miss Swan, but for once, I don’t know anything about the things that go on in this town. You see, I’ve decided to… keep more to myself lately. Have you talked to Dr. Whale? He might enlighten you about possible medical clues. Or, maybe, you should talk to her majesty, I’ve heard she and your mother are awfully close these days. She may be…"

 

Patience wearing thin, Emma pulls her hands off the counter and lets them curl into loose fists at her side. „Gold! Stop it! I’ve come to you for a reason, as I’m sure you can guess!"

 

Gold’s expression hardens. "Well, well, well, are you implying I might have something to do with this town’s tragedies?"

 

"Oh, how ironic that you're playing the innocent, since it certainly wouldn’t be the first of your shady meddlings, and it also wouldn't be the first time you tried to steal someone else’s baby, right? Who was it, who did your dirty work this time?"

 

"I can assure you, Miss Swan, that for once, my hands and conscience are clear," he replies, voice calm, his eyes hard as steel.

 

The door in the back of the shop opening prevents Emma from replying, and Emma breaks her stare when Belle enters. She doesn’t look up at first, placing a stash of books on the counter next to Gold. When Gold clears his throat, Belle finally notices the other woman in the room. „Emma!" She almost knocks over the books before rushing around the counter to wrap Emma in a hug. "So you really are back," she says with a warm smile once they have both taken a small step back. "I just talked to Ruby. She told me you might be over with some questions."

 

Both women pretend not to notice the way Gold lifts his eyebrow at that, and Belle thoughtfully gazes at Emma. "So. Are you here to interrogate my husband?" Her voice is calm, her eyes still shining with affection.

 

Emma is quiet for a moment, taking in the way Gold moves a little closer to Belle, while the other woman stays rooted to the spot. "I am, actually," she admits, moving her hands back into her pockets. "He really does make a convincing suspect, doesn't he," she adds with a short nod towards Gold.

 

Belle’s stare turns defensive for the fracture of a second, then her lips form a sad smile. "I’ll have to agree to that," she says, and when Gold starts to protest next to her, she places a calming hand on his upper arm. " _But_ , this time at least, I can vow for his innocence." She sighs, looking at Gold and the cupboard behind them. Emma follows her gaze. "He didn’t do it, Emma. He wouldn’t hurt these… children. Not anymore, that is, not since what happened to Neal. He has changed."

 

Emma sighs. "I'll take your word for it," and, turning to Gold, she adds, "Just know that I'm watching you. You try one dirty thing? I'll know about it before you're even finished."

 

The other woman holds up a hand, interrupting her. "I know that you’re just doing your job, Emma, so I'm not taking this personally. Just believe me, Rumple didn’t do it." She smiles sadly at her husband and hesitates for a moment, her back to Emma, then says, "Just find whoever did this." With that, she leaves the room without looking back.

 

Gold is the one to break the silence between them. "Well, well, Miss Swan, you heard her. I’m not the person you’re looking for. Maybe you should talk to the queen, dearie. She has been looking into this for days without taking a break now. I take it she could use some help with the magical part of all this. Who would have thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I think I’m needed elsewhere."

 

Emma sighs once she is standing alone in between antiques and junk. Seems like she really has no excuse to put of talking to her son’s other mother turned former nemesis turned object of her late-night-fantasies turned almost lover any longer. She considers lunch first, because her stomach is allegedly larger than her brain. With a sad smile, she looks at her wristwatch; even Granny won’t let her have dessert before 10am when she hasn’t even begun to solve this mystery.


	3. Chapter 3

Mifflin 108 still looks exactly the same, garden impeccably tended to, facade impossibly white, windows shining, and for a moment, Emma wonders if there is an infinite amount of magic involved, or if Regina simply keeps a competent staff of gardeners and cleaners on hand.

 

Shaking her head, Emma slowly moves towards the front door. She thinks she sees a curtain moving from the corner of her eyes, but when she somewhat reluctantly knocks, a full three minutes pass before the door opens.

 

Regina somehow manages to look both the same and slightly different at the same time. Her hair is down to her chin, falling in soft curls, but she is still wearing a sensible grey business dress and impossible black high heels that bring out her toned legs. Her unexpected proximity and the somehow still familiar scent of her expensive perfume manage to set free an army of nervous butterflies in Emma's stomach.

 

She is absolutely staying for one week only, tops.

 

Regina calmly takes her in for a few moments, gaze moving from her eyes, down to her lips, over her red leather jacket to the jeans that Emma suddenly fears have more holes than fabric in them.

 

"Hi," Emma says with a nervous smile, and she is instantly thrown back to a different meeting seven years ago.

 

 _No way_  is she staying for longer than a week.

 

Regina keeps her face carefully neutral, and Emma wonders if she can sense the tumult in Emma's stomach. "Well, about time you showed up, Miss Swan. Your father called yesterday to let me know you're back in town." She steps to the side, giving Emma enough room to walk past her into the house. "Would you like something to drink?"

 

Emma lifts her shoulders, feeling a little helpless. "I think it's a bit early for alcohol, unfortunately," she says with a nervous smile, and when Regina doesn't return her smile, she adds, "but I'd like a coffee. I came to talk about the… missing unborn children."

 

"I thought so. Well, I'd say we most definitely need a drink then, no matter the time," she says, pursing her lips before turning towards the study.

 

Emma takes it's as close to an invitation to follow as she'll get.

 

"I assume you've already talked to your parents and Dr. Whale," Regina says when they have settled into the study. There are two glasses of whiskey standing on the table between them, and despite Regina's earlier words, both women are hesitant to touch their drinks.

 

"And to Gold, yes.”

 

Regina regards her for a moment, and Emma squirms uncomfortably in her seat. Why does it feel like Regina can still see right through her?

 

"You don't really believe them, right?" Regina asks before finally reaching for her glass and leaning back against the sofa. "You don't believe it's another curse."

 

Emma leans back as well, mirroring her pose unconsciously. "I can't exactly say that I am one hundred percent convinced, no." The years in New York, in the real world, have weakened her believe in magic, and she has seen too many crimes, caught too many bad guys to simply disregard science and biology and human tragedies.

 

Regina takes a sip from her whiskey, smiling patiently. "I had my doubts too, at first," she admits and twirls the glass in her left hand. "Not anymore though. You talked to Dr. Whale, so I'm sure he told you about Miss Boyd? Did he show you the video of her ultrasound?" When Emma nods, she continues, "I thought the town was mostly freaking out when it first happened, but now, after seeing the video and the lab results, I have problems to find any believable explanation aside from a curse."

 

"So what? Are we talking about another Peter Pan, then?" Emma asks, rolling her eyes skeptically. "Stealing children to keep his dying heart alive?"

 

Regina rolls her eyes as well, and when Emma squints she can pretend it's almost affectionately. She doesn't squint, though.

 

"No, I don't think so. We defeated him, or don't you remember what happened in Neverland?"

 

At that, Emma blushes, because no way Regina is only talking about her first pitiable tries of magic and saving their son together, no matter the cost. _I'm scared, too, Regina_ , and soft whispers and desperate touches in the dark while the rest of the camp was asleep.

 

Regina smirks triumphantly, and Emma knows exactly what they both are thinking of without naming it. It takes her fifty painful seconds and four deep breaths, before she manages to form comprehensible sentences again. "So, if there really is magic involved, and Gold didn't do it- are you sure it's not your…"

 

"Don't even _think_  about bringing my sister into this," Regina interrupts her, bristling, and her demeanor hardens visibly. "Zelena has changed in the years you haven't been around. She is trying to be _good_ , and I really think she is handling it... okay." The way Regina's lips curl at _good_  makes it easy to believe there's still part of the evil queen hidden inside of her, and Emma's flush deepens. "Well, except that one time, when Leroy tried to feel her up on the dancefloor, and she set him and the rest of the rabbit hole on fire. Quite the night for the fire department." She looks almost wistful at that, basking in fond memories.

 

Emma suppresses a snicker. "I hope nobody was hurt."

 

Regina huffs. "Of course not! Well, aside from Leroy's pride, nobody was hurt. And I had Zelena repair the damage the fire had done, using as little magic as possible. I do take good care of this town, after all." Haughtily, Regina raises her chin, daring Emma to challenge her.

 

Emma sighs, holds up both of her hands. "Of course, Regina." She waits, returning her hands to her thighs, for Regina's shoulders to relax again. "Look, I don't want to fight, Regina. It's just, I've been away five years, and this magic thing needs some time for me to get used to again." When Regina gives an easy-to-miss nod, Emma adds, "So what do we do now?"

 

"Research," Regina replies, sounding suddenly very tired, "just like I've been doing for days. There must be something about this in one of my books, I just haven't found it yet." One brief look at Emma, and she is sure that neither one of them is going to finish their drinks, so she gets up, suggesting coffee and for Emma to follow her. "Oh, and your parents said you might need more magic lessons. We don't want you to go all Carrie on the town in case something goes terribly wrong."

 

Emma gets up as well, following Regina to the hall. "I think I'll pass on the coffee and head back to my parents' instead. David said something about intensifying patrols, and it's all hands on deck." When they are almost at the front door, she turns to Regina one last time. "Listen, I didn't mean to, to insult your sister or imply that you...” Her voice trails off, uncertain again.

 

Finally taking a pity on her, Regina smiles. "It's okay, I know. And if it's of any comfort to you- I had my doubts as well. But as fate has is, my sister is currently out in _your world_ trying out everything she has been missing in this picturesque town. She left six months ago, so I'd say she's not really a suspect.” She sighs before turning to Emma with an almost hopeful expression on her face. "Are you sure you don't want to stay a bit longer? Henry probably would like to say hello, too."

 

Emma shakes her head. I'm not so sure about that, she thinks, but says, "Thanks, Regina, but David will be happy to get some help with everything, I guess." With that, she steps out onto the porch and quickly walks to her car, feeling Regina's eyes on her back the whole time.

 

No way is she staying for longer than a week, _no freaking way_.

 

Once back at the apartment, Emma is met with an unexpected sight- Mary Margaret flitting about the room while David is staring at her in disbelief. "I don't know what exactly happened, kid, but I think she is her old self again." His voice rises at the end, almost like it's a question he is not sure how to ask, and Mary Margaret appears in front of the two of them, handing David his cellphone and pen and paper. "It's nothing, Charming, it just took me some time to remember who I am. I am Snow White, and I'm not admitting defeat when there's still a war to win. We've already lost a daughter once, and we got her back," she says, wrapping an arm around Emma's shoulder. "That's what we're going to do now- we fight and get our daughter back!" She turns around and marches through towards the stairs. "David, I want you to work out a schedule for an around-the-clock patrol. Keep the sheriff's station busy, and get as many volunteers on board as possible. Emma, see if you can help him, but it's more important that you work closely with Regina to find out who it is we're up against. Call her, find out if she has any clues or books for you to research."

 

"I've just been at Regina's. I don't think there's anything…"

 

"Call. Her," Mara Margaret insist, paying no further attention to Emma's protest. "I'm going to change back into my maternity clothes and meet with every other pregnant woman in Storybrooke. I'll make Whale give me their names, and then I need you and Regina to find a safe place for them. I don't care if you hide them away or set up the maternity ward with protective spells, just make sure they are safe." With that, she storms upstairs.

 

\---

 

After that, they all settle into some weird kind of routine, research and magic lessons with Regina, followed by nightly patrols with her father. Maybe the biggest mystery, though, is when Regina wholeheartedly agrees with Mary Margaret and helps eight pregnant women including Ruby get settled in at the hospital. They spend three hours placing every protective spell Regina knows around the ward, and after that, they ask the books for even more spells. That night, Emma falls onto her bed at the inn without having energy left to get undressed or under the blankets. Before falling asleep, she wonders how there are even so many pregnant women in Storybrooke. Have they been making up for 28 lost years?

 

When she isn't sitting hunched over dusty old books in Regina's vault, she is out patrolling the town with David, Mulan, and sometimes even Granny.

 

\---

 

"You really are welcome to stay here, you know,” Regina says late one night, after hours of research when Emma is looking forward to spending another sleepless night worrying about her family.

 

Regina is still sitting at her desk, back impossibly straight, hair and make-up impeccable as always, and Emma is almost embarrassed about the way she is curled up on the couch, hunched over an antique edition of 'Children's and Household Tales' she has no idea how Regina got her hands on. Almost- because they've been on this for hours now, and Emma can feel exhaustion and discomfort from not moving crawling into her bones. She suppresses a yawn, then looks up sharply, because did Regina just invite her to stay the night?

 

The other woman is still focused on the books in front of her, offering Emma a distracted smile, almost as an afterthought, so Emma just sighs and shakes her head. "Thanks, but I think I'll head back to Granny's soon, get some sleep before patrol tomorrow."

 

For the fragment of a second Regina almost looks disappointed, but then her face is neutral again. "However,” she says carefully, "I just think it might give us the opportunity for another magic lesson early in the morning.” She lifts one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.

 

Emma grins, slowly moving from her horizontal position on the couch. "Are you trying to persuade me to stay?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Regina huffs and closes the book she was reading. "Take this offer for whatever you want, just don't believe that the bed at Granny's is even close to being as comfortable as the mattress in my guestroom.”

 

Emma tries not to groan, because four weeks on a worn mattress, hours of research and hours on her feet for patrol have taken a toll on her back, and her shoulders rejoice at the thought of a night on a mattress without prominent coil springs.

 

Before she can reply, though, Regina stands up and moves around the desk towards the door. "Your decision to make,” she says, her back to Emma, "but I'm going to bed now. You're free to stay or leave as you please.”

 

Emma stays seated on the sofa, staring dumbfoundedly after Regina. She listens to the other woman's soft steps up the stairs, stopping briefly at Henry's or the guest room. The sound of a door opening, and closing, and shortly after that, Emma can hear the shower running in the upstairs bathroom.

 

Emma blushes furiously, because she cannot be picturing Regina taking off her clothes and stepping under the shower spray, beads of water dripping off her soft skin, absolutely not, and in a panicked attempt to fight off absolutely uncalled for and inappropriate thoughts about _Regina_ , for fuck's sake, she jumps off the couch and throws her jacket and backpack over one shoulder. "Fine,” she grumbles to herself, "I'm staying. Just for one night.”

 

She walks into the guest room to find Regina has left towels and a spare toothbrush for her on the bedside table, and she can exactly picture the smug grin Regina has to be sporting right now.

 

"Fuck it," she says again to no one but herself. She undresses silently and climbs into bed, intent to drool on the ridiculous comfortable (and not doubt equally ridiculously expensive) pillow out of spite.

 

…

 

She wakes up the next morning feeling better rested than she has in the last four weeks. No way is she going to tell that to Regina, so after taking a quick shower she makes sure to put on the grumpiest expression she can manage at 7am before heading for the kitchen.

 

She enters and finds Regina at the stove, Henry sitting at the table, a plate full of pancakes in front of him. Henry doesn't look up, but Regina turns towards Emma and offers her a soft smile and a cup of coffee which Emma accepts gratefully.

 

"What happened to eating healthily and breakfast being the most important meal?" Emma asks with a nod towards Henry's food and the bacon sizzling in a pan.

 

Avoiding eye contact like he has been these last weeks, Henry holds up his fork. "There's strawberries on the side," Regina says, cocking her head as if challenging Emma to disagree.

 

Emma doesn't, but leans her hip against the counter, the warm cup clasped between her hands. Satisfied, Regina turns back towards the stove, and Emma takes the opportunity to just look at her for a moment.

 

Regina is wearing a pair of black jeans and a tight blue shirt, and with her hair in soft curls she looks more casual than Emma can remember ever seeing her. There is only a trace of makeup on her face, but she seems to be glowing somehow, and before Emma can stop her own stupid mouth, she blurts out, "How the hell do you look like this at the buttcrack of dawn?”

 

For a moment, Regina stops turning the bacon, and Emma can feel herself blushing furiously. The other woman turns to stare at her, and Emma is sure that Henry is doing the same behind her. Then, Regina puts on her signature smirk and says, "Well, not all of us are lazy drunkards who leave their bedroom wearing improper clothes.” And with that, she slowly runs her eyes down Emma's body, over her (hopefully not see-through) white tank top, her tight shorts and her bare legs, and unconsciously, Emma starts tugging down the hem of her shirt in a futile attempt to cover up more skin.

 

She could swear Regina's gaze is positively hungry.

 

"Mom hits the snooze button at least ten times every morning, and then it actually takes her an hour to look like that," Henry suddenly quips from the other side of the room.

 

Eyes wide, Emma whips around while Regina lets out a scandalized "Henry!"

 

Henry nods, grinning widely. "It's true, mom!"

 

Regina stares at him in disbelief, hands on her hips, and Emma can't help but laugh at the utter look of betrayal, and maybe this is what family feels like.

 

…

 

Somehow, _just for one night_ turns into two nights, then three, and then Regina stops offering, and Emma keeps wordlessly accepting.

 

Somehow, the scowl on Henry's face appears less frequently.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"It doesn't mean anything,” Emma insists when she is out patrolling with Mulan a few nights later. "It's just… it's easier that way, with, you know, magic lessons, and research. And maybe it's easier for Henry, too.” She lets out a small nervous laugh. "Or maybe it isn't. He is so hard to read now that he's a teenager.”

 

Mulan rolls her eyes. "I don't think puberty is the only thing complicating things between you two,” she says, grimacing like Emma's personal life is the last thing on this earth she wants to discuss, but before Emma can disagree, she sees, from the corner of her eyes, sparkling lights over the town pond.

 

"What the fuck is that?”

 

Electrically charged silence seems to spread over the town, the quiet before the storm, and Emma holds her breath until she can feel the back of her neck prickling. And this time, she looks straight at the sky above the pond, stares at dark grey clouds. Grey clouds shifting, and then there is the almost ethereal light again, sparkling like a millions diamonds.

 

"What the actual fuck?” Mulan asks again.

 

Instead of replying, Emma fumbles for her cellphone in her pocket.

 

\---

 

Emma is out of breath when she and Mulan arrive at the park to find Regina already impatiently waiting.

 

"Please don't tell me that, instead of magicking yourself, you actually ran?” she asks, eyebrow lifted incredulously, while Emma is gasping for breath.

 

Emma blushes, which, thankfully, shouldn't be visible since her face is deep red from the exertion, and presses her palms to her thighs. "I didn't forget,” she protests, "it was only a mile, and I figured running might be faster.” It's not that she really forgot, just, sometimes, when she is under pressure, magic isn't at the front of her mind, and she relies on her trusted strengths.

 

Regina still looks at her like she doesn't fully believe her, and maybe, under the almost fearful expression on her face, Emma thinks she might see a smile appearing. Before Regina has any chance to mock her some more, David's car pulls up at the curb, her father jumping out of the door. "What've we got?” he drawls, and Emma is reminded so much of some eighties' detective series that she has suppress a strained laugh.

 

Instead, she turns to point at Mulan standing behind her. "Mulan and I were on duty tonight, and we were close to the wharf when there was this light over the park.” David nods, and Regina motions for her to go on, to explain faster, because they don't have the time to talk about weather phenomenon when there are children disappearing. "There was a little pause after that, and then there were even more lights, like, I don't know, like diamonds illuminating the sky.”

 

Eyebrows drawn together, Regina looks at her. "Diamonds?”

 

"Or snowflakes," Mulan suggests, and Emma has to agree.

 

"Very well, in that case I suggest you and Prince Charming head over to the hospital to look for any more mysteriously ended pregnancies, while Emma and I try to find a villain whose specialties are peculiar weather phenomenon.” She flicks her wrist, and Emma watches as the world around her disappears behind purplish smoke.

 

"So, what do you suggest we do now?” Emma asks when they materialize in Regina's vault.

 

Regina has already her back turned to Emma, striding to a stash of books in a faraway corner. She reaches for a dusty leather-bound book which Emma immediately recognizes as Grimm's tales. "You're not going tell me that we are looking for Disney's... Frozen Queen or something, right?” Emma asks, laughing nervously.

 

"No, Elsa of Arendelle paid us a visit briefly after you had left for New York," Regina says distractedly while she is thumbing through the book. "This isn't her... modus operandi. We're looking for somebody else."

 

Emma watches her, taking in the soft lines of her shoulders as she hovers over the book. Regina purses her lips while she skims over the pages of old English letters, and every few seconds her brows furrow and relax, and Emma thinks maybe this isn't the right time to think about all the different ways she could fall in love with Regina Mills, but there is something fascinating about Regina like this, and wouldn't it be a crime to look away when every time Emma watches her there is a new hidden layer for her to uncover?

 

"Don't think I don't see you staring, Miss Swan,” Regina says suddenly, but her voice is soft, lacking any venom. "Please, make yourself useful and help saving this town?”

 

Emma blushes furiously, but the half-light of the vault keeps her embarrassment hidden, and it's not like Regina was staring at Emma like Emma was staring at Regina anyway. Emma scoffs. "It certainly would help if you would let me know what exactly you are looking for!”

 

Without looking up, Regina waves her hand, and another ancient book materializes in front of Emma. " _We_ , Miss Swan, are looking for a villain who can make it snow and is the supposed savior of children.” She glances at the row of books resting on the table. "Another fairytale told wrong in this world, I guess.”

 

They work in silence next to each other, five minutes, then ten pass, and Emma forces herself to stare at letters that don't make sense to her instead of the woman who is only starting to make sense, until suddenly, Regina exclaims, almost gleefully, "I knew it!”

 

Emma doesn't reply at first, reads the text Regina hands her again, and asks, "Did you know that Mother Hulda reportedly has a lake full of unborn children? And women who take a bath in that lake get pregnant?” Regina nods slowly, and Emma continues, "I'm wondering how that would go- why are there children in a lake, where do the children come from, you know? I think we might get an answer soon.”

 

Regina reaches for another book. "Now, the important question still remains- how do we defeat Mother Hulda?”

 

"That's easy,” Emma jokes, "we just have to turn apples and bread against her, since she was too busy stealing children when she should have taken care of her realm.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, and her patience might be running thin when she tells Emma, "Read another book, Miss Swan.” There is a soft smile threatening to curl the corners of her lips, and Emma grins, pleased with herself, before settling back at the table.

 

\---

 

The next hours pass in a blur, while they read over book after book, after book, the candles flickering in the corners, and Regina pauses only once to magic two sandwiches when Emma's stomach rumbles so loud it startles them in the silence of the room, and again to get two blankets from an old suspicious chest when Emma is too cold to even ask about the previous owner.

 

Emma's eyelids start to droop, and she burrows farther into the surprisingly comfortable blanket when Regina finally seems to take pity on her. "Maybe we should call it a night,” she sighs, exhaustion lacing her voice with deep undertones, "The only thing that these books keep repeating are that Mother Hulda depends on a certain orderliness around her and on the dutifulness of those who manage to fall through the well. And I really don't know how that is supposed to help us.”

 

"Well, we do have a teenage son, and if he was more of a regular teenager and less a miniature you, he'd be an expert in causing chaos,” Emma shrugs and hides a wide yawn behind her hand.

 

Regina rolls her eyes, this time less affectionate and more tired, and she takes her own and Emma's book and places them on a towering stash on the edge of the table. "Come on, Miss Swan, it's time to call it a night.”

 

Emma yawns again, this time too exhausted to cover it with her hand, and says, "Don't think I've noticed you keep calling me Miss Swan even though we've been, you know, in Neverland...”

 

Regina only hums and places a warm hand on Emma's shoulder before poofing them back to the mansion.

 

A few minutes later, Emma falls into her bed and into a deep, dreamless sleep. The extraordinarily comfortable mattress in the guestroom does that to her, even after four weeks.

 

\---

 

The next morning, an insistent knock on the bedroom door wakes her up. Sleepily, Emma blinks at the alarm clock. 6.25. She groans. No rest for the wicked, it seems. "Yes?”

 

"Mom told me to wake you up, some town business that needs your attention.” It's Henry, voice deep with sleep and puberty, and it's moments like this, wedged between sleep and a tired morning, when Emma can hardly believe that she has a sixteen-year-old kid that doesn't hate her as much as she expected when she gave him up the first time.

 

She groans again. "Do you have any idea what time it is?”

 

Henry snickers. "Time for you to get up, mom said,” and then, slightly more serious, "please don't make me come into that room and drag you out of your bed, ma. I'm already scarred for life as things are.” Heavy footsteps down the hall tell her that he's already on the way to his own bedroom.

 

Emma rolls out of bed and slowly gets dressed, and when she walks into the kitchen ten minutes later, Regina hands her a cup of hot coffee with a smug smile. "A bit early for you, Miss Swan?”

 

Emma accepts it, grimacing. "Don't forget that I know your secret now, your majesty. You've been awake since, what, 4 am?”

 

Regina take her own cup and leans her hip against the counter. She blows softly on the hot coffee, hiding her grin. "4.25,” she admits eventually. "I've already spoken to Gold. He says even though he is no longer in the business of making deals and threatening people, he knows someone who knows Mother Hulda and might be of help in gaining ground on her. Oh, and your father insists on you attending the town hall meeting at eight.”

 

Emma grimaces. "I'd rather help you with Mother Hulda, even if it means sacrificing every single one of your amazing pillows on every single one of your amazingly comfortable beds.”

 

Regina smirks. "I told you, you should have stayed here sooner. Anyway, I'll meet Gold and his customer, and afterwards I'll join you in the town hall."

 

\---

 

The town hall is tightly packed, buzzing with a dozen different voices, and impatient scratching of chairs. The room feels already too warm to Emma, the air sticky, and she takes ten deep breaths to calm herself. Emma has never been one for public speeches, and the last years she spent in the anonymity of New York certainly didn't help with that.

 

Her father is standing next to her, obviously calmer than Emma, and next to him, Mary Margaret is smiling both patiently and reassuringly at the room, and not for the first time, Emma wonders how they can share so many genes when Emma still has nothing of that Charming leadership gene.

 

She calms down somewhat when she notices Regina entering the room, for once without any dramatic gesture. She is briefly reminded of previous town hall meetings, but then Regina meets her eyes, giving a reassuring smile, and Emma feels herself calm even more.

 

Regina barely manages to move next to where Henry is sitting sulking in the front row, briefly squeezing his shoulder, before Mary Margaret coughs loudly and claps her hands once to catch everyone's attention. "People of Storybrooke,” she begins, and the noise in the room immediately dies down. "You all certainly know that, once again, the security of Storybrooke and its citizens is under threat.” The audience nod, listening attentively as Mary Margaret goes on about a never-ending list of villains, and unborn children going missing, and a future suddenly insecure. Emma's attention drifts from listening to Mary Margaret to observing the crowd. There's Sean Herman, looking ready to fight, and next to him Ashley, looking almost resigned. Her smile is strained when Sean grips her hand once and leans over to whisper something into her ear. On the other side of the same row are Kathryn and her husband (Jim, was it?), both of them looking grim, and Emma thinks she can see tears glittering in the corners of Kathryn's eyes.

 

In the back of the room, Mulan is leaning against the wall, one hand clutching the hill of her sword, the other tightly clenched at her side. She keeps to herself, jaw set, and Emma wonders what has her so distanced when they are talking about doing everything to keep the mothers safe.

 

Emma looks over the rest of the room, some faces tired and defeated, but most looking elated at the prospect of their leaders finding a way to save them, once again. And, somehow, Emma manages to shift her focus from unwantedly being part of that leadership team to the people who depend on her. She pictures Ruby with her small bump of a stomach lying in a hospital room next to another woman not yet showing any sign of pregnancy, and she vows to herself that she will do everything she can to keep them safe, to find their villain and a counter curse.

 

Shoulders set, she looks over at Regina, grins, and suddenly begins looking forward to tomorrow's magic lessons. Cautiously, Regina returns her smile, a silent Henry staring glumly straight ahead next to her. Together, they'll manage this, Emma thinks, the former evil queen and the former savior, together.

 

Mary Margaret finishes her speech with a confident, "We will make sure that this doesn't happen again!”, and before the crowd can start talking again, David takes over from her.

 

"We know that what we are asking might seem a lot, and we are aware that it does involve certain sacrifices, but I think we can all agree that especially in this case, the safety of our own people comes before our comfort. That's why we, as your leaders, have decided that now would be the best time to start looking for ways to move back to the Enchanted Forest, to move back to _our_ world in case that we don't find a way to solve all this.”

 

The noise in the room turns deafening.

 

And slowly the pieces fall together- Henry sulking in the front row, Mulan and half of Storybrooke, with arms crossed and hard eyes, waiting for her parents to talk. Suddenly everything makes sense, and the noise turns to a loud buzzing in Emma's ears, and for a moment, she feels like she can't breathe, her chest too tight, the air too hot.

 

Emma shakes her head too clear it, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, and she turns to her parents in disbelieve. "Is this… Are you really talking about going back to the Enchanted Forest?” Her voice rises at the end of the question, and both Charming and Snow White, in all their natural assertiveness, turn to Emma. Snow whispers, "Oh darling, you knew that it would come to this, it's the right thing to do,” smiling confidently, while David places a hand on her shoulder, says, "I don't think now is the right time to have doubts.”

 

The noise in the room is deafening again.

 

Emma looks at Regina, feeling helpless and lost, but the other woman only looks back at her, expression neutral, and then her eyes slowly turn soft and understanding. Too slowly, and desperately, with a flourish of her hand, Emma poofs herself out of the center of chaos, leaving only a cloud of smoke behind.

 

\---

 

Regina finds her at the harbor ten minutes later. Wordlessly, she settles down onto the bench next to Emma, joining her to stare silently out onto the ocean.

 

"Did you know?” Emma asks after a while, when the fresh salty air has somewhat managed to clear her head.

 

"That I'd find you here, or that your parents are still the same mindless idiots who listen to whatever the blue fairy whispers to them, even after what happened thirty-five years ago?”

 

Emma laughs humorlessly. "Both, I guess.”

 

Regina nods, pulls her coat closer around her shoulders. "The first, gut feeling, and the second… Well, I could say gut feeling as well, as I know your parents more than I like, but before you… came back from New York, before your parents' child was kidnapped, the blue fairy kept rambling about how going back to the Enchanted Forest was the only thing that could keep everyone safe from this curse. I didn't think anyone would fall for her talk, but, well, you know your mother.”

 

Don't blame this only on my mother, Emma wants to reply, and what happened to doing the right thing and fighting back, and this is my world, this is where I belong, and why does everybody leave me in the end?

 

Instead, she asks angrily, "Why didn't you tell me?” when she wants to ask, 'Are you leaving me as well?' She takes a deep breath of fresh sea air, reminding herself that they are still here, and for a moment she longs for New York rush hour air to keep her grounded.

 

"I assumed you knew, Emma. I thought your parents had already talked to you about their idiotic plans.” Finally, Regina turns from the sea to Emma, turning her whole body so that her knees bump into Emma's thighs. Neither of them moves, and Emma lets that small point of contact ground her, and a little more confidently, Regina reaches out and places her warm hand on top of Emma's cold one, resting clenched on the back of the bench. "I made decisions based on wrong assumptions, and it was wrong not to talk to you about it, just never believe…”

 

A sudden, deep chuckle interrupts her. "Oh, what a lovely, domestic scene!” a foreign voice states gleefully.

 

As one, Emma and Regina jump apart, both turning around to look at the newcomer behind them. Emma knows at once that they are looking at Mother Hulda- round face, grey hair, old-fashioned floral dress, and this woman looks more like a benevolent grandmother than the kidnapping villain she actually is.

 

On instinct, Emma can feel her magic lurking at her fingertips, sharp and almost biting to spring forward, and next to her, she feels Regina curling her hand into a loose fist to bring forward a fireball. "What do you want?” Regina snarls.

 

The woman chuckles again. "Oh, my dear, _you_ have nothing to fear from me, so maybe…” she points at Regina's hands, "you want to stop this ridiculous attempt of, let's call it, _impressing_ me?” She smiles good-naturedly, and squeezes both of her eyes shut for the fraction of a second.

 

Next to Emma, Regina lets out a surprised gasp, and when Emma looks at her, there is a miniature storm cloud forming over her hand, thousands of tiny snowflakes falling down to extinguish the fireball in her hand. The snow melts, forming rivulets of water to drip down onto the ground in front of Regina's feet.

 

Regina looks at Emma, alarmed, and then at the other woman. "What…”

 

Eyes now open, the other woman keeps her smile firmly on her face.

 

"Oh, you sweet, sweet children,” she says, shaking her head, "don't you worry those pretty little heads of yours! You just be patient and industrious, and you'll soon harvest the fruit of your labor." Suddenly, she fixes Regina with a grim expression. "Talking of reaping- would you mind talking down the protection you've placed around this place you call maternity ward?"

 

"Ah ah ah," Gold's voice suddenly sounds behind them, "I don't think that's a wise idea. Mother Hulda- I did have my doubts that we would meet you here, but turns out some people know you better than you'd like."

 

Mother Hulda snarls, "Rumpelstiltskin. You can't stop me either. Don't you remember what happened to your son? You don't want to lose another one, do you?"

 

Gold shakes his head. "I don't think it's going to come to that." When he steps to the side, they can see that there's a young woman waiting behind him.

 

Mother Hulda gasps. "Iris, is that you?"

 

At that, the woman takes a step forward, until Regina motions for her to stop. "Yes, Mother Hulda, it's me, Iris. I heard what's been happening, and I wanted to remind you of everything you've taught me. I enjoyed working for you so much, and I've learned so many important lessons, and now it's time for me to make sure you don't lose your way."

 

For a moment, Mother Hulda almost looks like she is about to cave in, her eyes smiling, and her face delighted at seeing her industrious girl again, but then she sets her shoulders. "Yes, my girl, I did teach you everything you need to know, I made sure you had a place to sleep and always enough to eat, but in the end, you were just like everyone else. Everyone comes to my world, eats, sleeps, learns to be dependable, and yet in the end, everyone leaves me, leaves me in my weird land with talking bread and apples." She cackles menacingly. "And the young women are the worst. They come to me and complain, and then they take a bath in my pretty lake, and then they demand to be pregnant. They demand! Did you know, that there aren't any babies left in my lake? That's why I'm coming to your world, to take from it the children that you don't want here anyway!" She snarls again, face set in an ugly grimace and raises a hand to form another storm around herself.

 

Emma and Regina fight back, Regina throwing inefficient fireballs at their adversary, while Emma magics herself her sword to hurl it at Mother Hulda. The older woman cackles, hand still raised…

 

… until, in a cloud of green smoke, Zelena appears behind her and uses the moment of confusion to slip a magic cuff around Mother Hulda's wrist.

 

Laughing almost manically, Zelena pauses a moment to grin at them. "Did you miss me, sis? I heard you needed some help," she says, glaring at Regina before poofing herself and a screaming Mother Hulda to the station.


	5. Chapter 5

Surprisingly, Emma stays with Regina and Henry even once Mother Hulda is locked up and the fetuses are back where they are supposed to be.

 

"It just seems is easier this way, you know," Emma explains when Mary Margaret brings it up on the phone two days after Mother Hulda has been returned to her land. "There's still so much left to do, protective spells, cleaning up Regina's vault- she is really a bit of a tyrant when it comes to arranging her books, you know? And I think it's easier for Henry as well, maybe this way he'll see that I'm here to stay."

 

Snow just hums noncommittally, and when she speaks again, she sounds like she's choking back tears. "Oh Emma…"

 

Emma blushes even though neither Snow nor Regina can see her, and she mutters, "Mom, really, it's nothing. It's just easier this way."

 

"You keep saying that, honey, but I think you should make the best of it. Maybe it's time for you to settle down."

 

"Right." Emma sighs, and rolls her eyes, because just a few days ago her parents had wanted her to return to a world she's never known. "I'm going to hang up now. No, I'm not avoiding you, but there's this… thing I have. With Regina. An important thing. Bye, mom." With that, she turns off her phone and moves to the kitchen, where she puts her cell phone behind a bowl of fruit where she isn't going to find it again anytime soon.

 

At her suffering sigh, Regina looks up from where she's chopping chili peppers for dinner. "Your mother?"

 

Emma nods, stepping up behind Regina. She wants to hide her face in the nape of Regina's neck, to breathe in Regina's shampoo mixing with spicy chilis. "Yeah," she sighs contentedly. "Just something about the baby," staring at Regina's hands.

 

"Uh-huh," the other woman replies, and if she doesn't believe Emma she doesn't let it show. "Would you mind cooking the pasta, dear?" she asks instead.

 

Emma brushes her fingertips along Regina's bare arm, feels her shiver at the soft touch, and she smiles when she replies, "I can't believe you're letting me do something important and difficult like boiling water, so I have to say yes."

 

Carefully placing the knife on the counter, Regina turns around before Emma can take a step back. Emma feels her breath hitch at the sudden proximity, and then her breathing stops altogether when Regina presses her lips against Emma's. Both women freeze, both shocked even thought they have seen this coming, until Emma lets out a soft breath before pushing Regina back against the counter to return her kisses.

 

When they finally part, Emma is flushed and doesn't supress her sheepish grin. Regina rolls her eyes, and these days, Emma doesn't have to squint to know that it's more affectionate than exasperated. "Just cook the damn pasta, Emma."

 

\---

 

Later that night, they are lying on the couch in the living room, Emma sated with both homemade pasta and Regina's proximity, and she's starting to think that Regina's kisses are more intoxicating than the wine that's waiting for them on the kitchen counter. Regina's is on top of Emma, cradled between her legs, and Emma can feel the heat of her skin where Regina's shirt has ridden up to bare her stomach. It's very distracting.

 

"Do you think we're moving too fast with this?" Emma asks after a while, when Regina is peppering soft kisses along Emma's throat. She has her hands on Regina's waist, thumbs stroking her skin to dip under her pants every now and then.

 

Regina leans back on her hands, looking at Emma sharply. "Do you really… Are you having second thoughts about this? Us?" Before Emma can wrap her arms around Regina to keep her close, the other woman is already scrambling backwards, sitting back on her haunches at the other end of the couch. "Now?"

 

"What? No, Regina, no." Emma moves to sit up, reaching for Regina to pull her closer again. "I'm not having second thoughts about us," she explains when Regina stays rooted to the spot. "Just, don't you think that, maybe, we are moving a bit too fast? I mean, one week I'm in New York, pretending I don't have a fairytale family and a crush on the woman who tried to kill my mother, and the next I'm moving in with said woman and our teenage son?"

 

Cocking her head, Regina regards her for a long moment. "It's not too late to move out and find your own place, Emma. As long as you stay in Storybrooke, we will be fine."

 

Emma smiles at that, and this time she catches Regina's hand to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I don't think that's what I want," she says, looking at their intertwined fingers instead of Regina's face. "Last time, I don't know, but I just had to leave, you know? Storybrooke didn't feel like a place where I could be truly happy, and I just wanted to be free from having to be the perfect daughter and savior, and I needed to find out what part in my life I wanted Storybrooke play, if that makes sense?" Regina gives her hand a small squeeze, and Emma hopes she understands that with Storybrooke, she also means Regina and Henry, and that now, after all the time, she wants it to be the leading part.

 

Regina hums, softly, and her eyes are so warm when she says, "I know that, Emma. Henry knows that as well, but he'll need time. You'll need time to build that trust between you again. He will get there, eventually."

 

"I can be patient," Emma promises, eyes serious.

 

Regina nods. "I know, darling, I know." She grins and runs her fingers through Emma's golden curls. "Just promise me we're not going to turn into kidnapping old hags just because someone close to us hurts us."

 

"That, I can promise you." Leaning back against the arm of the couch, Emma tugs on Regina's arm, smiling playfully. "I know for sure, though, that you'd be an extremely strict, but even hotter old lady," she says, before pulling Regina back on top of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this has been a wild ride and yet, a pleasant journey to write this fic! So if you want to, leave a comment. :)
> 
> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).


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